


Wake The Wolf

by Leyenn



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-03
Updated: 2011-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-15 09:02:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leyenn/pseuds/Leyenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John gets in late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake The Wolf

At one thirty seven in the morning, he finally climbs into Susan's bed and wraps his arms around her from behind. She's wearing satin - blue, he thinks, though it's difficult to tell with all the lights off - and it's silky-smooth against his bare skin, warm from her body and her thorough cocooning inside the sheets. She's asleep, of that he's pretty sure, but asking him not to touch her in bed is like asking him not to breathe - uncomfortable and eventually doomed to failure.

"Mm." She shifts against him almost the moment his arms are around her waist, and though it's a good bet she hasn't bothered to open her eyes, her voice carries back to him in the dark. "What the hell kind of time do you call this, Captain?"

He chuckles quietly. "Sorry." Presses a kiss to her shoulder, naked but for the thin strap of her nightgown. That bodes well for his chances of survival. "I got held up with Garibaldi."

She makes an undignified noise. "In the bar?"

"Procedures meeting. Emergency call came through, one of the big Dust dealers in Down Below-"

That doesn't make her turn over, but it does at least merit a tilt of her head back toward him. " _Tell_ me you didn't go haring down there with him."

He stays silent on that one - which is useless, since she'll read that for exactly the guilt it is. And she does. He can feel her sigh through his chest, it's that heavy. "I swear, one of these days I'm just gonna shoot you myself and save some madman the effort."

He presses his lips to the curve of her neck. "You're really gunning for that promotion, huh?"

"Leave Garibaldi to his job next time." For a moment she sounds quiet, and there's such a mix of emotion behind the seriousness in her tone. "No one needs your chest decorated with PPG burns right now, John."

He works her hand out from its warm spot curled in the sheets and threads his fingers between hers. "I couldn't just-"

"Yes, you could." But she sounds more resigned than angry. She still doesn't turn over, but she does add her other hand to their tangle of fingers. "Just my luck to get stuck with a CO with a heroic streak a mile wide."

He presses his lips behind her ear and tries not to grin too widely. "Anyone ever tell you you're cranky this late at night?"

"I'm cranky when I'm woken up at two in the morning by idiot captains who don't know how to preserve their own skin."

He lets that pass, since it's mostly accurate. Instead he grins into the back of her neck. "Anyone ever tell you it's pretty damn sexy?"

If he didn't know better, the way she sighs right then would be easy to consider long-suffering, or for him to think he shouldn't push his luck, but he does. He knows Susan Ivanova very well in very many ways, and that's definitely something worth being reprimanded for his idiocy once in a while.

He trails his lips across her skin, until she twitches just a little and he knows he's found the right spot. She tastes clean, like shower water - it always tastes different to the drinking supply, or maybe it's just the combination with Susan's skin that makes him enjoy it quite so much. He can feel her holding herself still, the thinnest strand of tension in the way she's resting against him: grins, but inwardly, and occupies his mouth with nipping, sucking, licking at that one single spot until she shivers, hard, and growls under her breath.

"John..."

"Mmm?" He hums it into her neck; she shivers again and he can feel the flex of her neck under his tongue as she bites her lip. He bites down himself, gently, and she arches her neck and growls again, very much louder this time.

"Damn it." She rolls over and suddenly he's pinned to the bed by his shoulders, Susan glaring down at him with an exasperated and heated look in her eyes. "You're still not forgiven for being an idiot," she says firmly.

He grins up at her. "I can live with that."

"That's the idea." She leans against his chest. "I worry about you, John."

He rolls his eyes. "I can take care of myself, you know."

"I'll believe that when I see it." Her smile is affectionate, but he knows she's still serious. "I have to worry. It's my job."

"You're off duty," he reminds her, running his fingers through her hair. It's still slightly damp from her shower, soft and silky between his fingertips.

She smirks. "Never. You're a full time job."

"With a few pleasant perks, though." He slips a finger under the strap of her nightgown and slides it down her arm. She chuckles, shakes her head at him and lifts her arm free, shrugging the other strap down.

"You're lucky you're right about that." Her lips are soft as she leans down to kiss him, open-mouthed and intense, her hand pressing into the pillow beside his head. He pushes the satin down, stroking her skin, and she makes a soft sound into his mouth as her breasts fall free into his hands. Her nipples harden at his touch, cupped in his palms; he strokes them with his thumbs, light and teasing, and she hums low in her throat and reaches down to get her hands into his boxers.

He's already half-hard; her hand closing around his cock just speeds up the process, but damn, it does it well and feels as good as it always does. She smiles into his mouth and pulls back, her lips moving against his.

"Something up I should know about, Captain?"

He grins, arches his neck and nips at her lower lip, capturing it briefly between his teeth before letting go. Teasing Susan only ever turns her on, even if she makes out she's more frustrated than aroused - he knows by now how to read through her. "Something you should work on, Commander," he murmurs back, and strokes his hands down her sides to push her nightgown the rest of the way down. Her nipples brush his chest and she leans into him, her eyes sliding closed at the feeling.

If it weren't so late, he might leave her to her own devices with him - but it is, and he'd bet her day was just as long as his, and he really just wants to do this with her, right now. He pulls his own boxers down as she kicks her nightgown out of the way, and Susan presses down onto him and god, damn it, the soft skin of her stomach rubbing against the head of his cock is enough to make him buck into her hand and groan.

"That feels good," he murmurs in her ear, and she turns her head to smile against his lips.

"I think I can tell that much." She doesn't seem in any hurry to move from holding him like that, but then neither is he - just her touch can be more than enough. "I should let you wait like this," she mutters, and he groans at the thought.

"Susan..." He'll do whatever she wants when she's on top of him with his cock in her hand, and she knows it. "Please," he says, and she smiles wickedly and strokes him once, hard, arching his hips off the bed. "Mm, god, yeah..." He closes his own hand over hers, his eyes sliding closed at the added pressure, the feeling of her fingers under his, wrapped tight around his cock and stroking, another long pull of her hand and his, and he groans loudly. "Oh, yeah, that's - Susan..."

She swears under her breath - her free hand grips his, tight, and even hard as glass and half out of his mind he knows what she wants. Her fingers tangle with his as he pushes them between her thighs; she shifts, throws one leg over his hips to get closer and lets a soft sigh escape as his fingers dip inside her.

"Mmm..."

"That feels good, too," he murmurs, and she laughs, nuzzling into his neck the same way he does to her.

"Yeah, it does," and another soft, half-swallowed sound as he finds her clit with wet fingers. "Oh, mm, yeah, I - oh god, John," her voice dropping and breathless as he presses harder and starts up a slow, circling rhythm. "Oh, yeah..."

It doesn't, he's discovered since they've been doing this, take much for Susan to come the first time - just this is enough, if he does it right, and she makes the kind of sounds that tell him very clearly when he's managing that. Like right now, when he rubs faster and harder and she gasps, buries her face in his neck to keep from crying out, and her hand is still, god, still wrapped around his cock and stroking harder and he's going to feel her come any second now and he knows just how she'll sound, so goddamned sexy that he's not sure he won't join her - not what he wants, not yet -

He drags her hand away and pushes his fingers between hers to keep them both from touching him. She squeezes his hand immediately, hard, rocking into his fingers on her clit. He's focused on her and she knows it: her voice is throaty, desperate, gasped into his neck. "John..."

He turns his head, her hair soft against his lips as he whispers in her ear. "Tell me," because hell yes, he wants her to come apart for him, just for him, just from this.

She's breathless already, and it takes her a good few seconds to be coherent enough for him to hear her. "Good, you're good, I just - don't stop -"

"Harder?"

"Yeah..." So he does, rubs harder and just on this side of rough, and Susan arches into him and goes rigid, her voice nearly a sob. "Oh, yeah, that's - oh, _fuck, John_ -"

The sound of her like that, coming for him, on his fingers, is just - he doesn't even stop as he rolls her over and pushes her down into the bed, kisses her hard and licks into her mouth and pushes her thighs apart to sink into her in one long, deep stroke.

Susan turns her head and screams into the pillow, and if he wasn't close to coming before that takes him right up to the edge. His fingers finally slip away; she's so wet and hot and he can't hold onto the right rhythm - he just _wants_ , wants her and this and now, she feels so good around him, so fucking good with every thrust he makes that he couldn't stop if the whole war depended on it.

"Love doing that to you," he growls in her ear. "God, you're beautiful..."

Susan makes a rough, needy sound, turns her head back and takes his face in her hands and kisses him: hot, desperate and just as wanting, and whether she's picking up on his own emotions too, he doesn't know and doesn't care. She's clenching around him on each thrust, hot and tight, and he's pretty certain she's going to come again right along with him, any minute, any damned _second_...

She tears her mouth from his, gasping: he drops his head and bites the curve of her neck, that one sensitive spot and she screams again, a full-throated shout this time, and _hell_ , it's like - it's _always_ like - her voice is tied right to his cock inside her. She's trying to arch up under him and he's shoving into her hard, can't keep from holding her down as he comes, hard, deep inside her with his fingers gripped white between hers and his own rough cry muffled against her neck.

Susan buries a hand lazily in his hair as he comes down; her fingers stroking his scalp are nothing short of euphoric, and the sudden urge to close his eyes is only overtaken by how much he wants to just look at her, right now. Susan Ivanova, warm and satisfied underneath him, more mussed and manhandled than she'd ever let anyone else see. He can't think what else he could possibly ask for.

He lifts his head and she smiles up at him, her fingers trailing lightly down his cheek. He smiles back at her as he leans down again, and she meets him halfway for a soft, quiet kiss. He's still inside her; he rests his forehead against hers and makes another playful, lazy thrust of his hips. She rocks with him, slow and perfectly in sync with a breathy laugh.

"Mmm..." She runs her hands down his back as he slips out of her, holding him still when he tries to move. "It's okay," she says softly, and he smiles into her eyes.

"You're sure?"

"Mm-hmm," is all he gets, but he can't really doubt it when her hands are so warm and her arms are wrapped around him like this. Sometimes she needs him to move, needs space when she's been so broken open; sometimes she simply lets him hold her and sometimes, like now, he's lucky enough that she wants this - to stay wrapped up with him, hot skin to hot skin, sharing gentle touches with his weight on her, and every breath she takes he can feel like his own.

"Try not to be an idiot tomorrow," she murmurs after a while, her fingers playing at the back of his neck, and he chuckles.

"I can't promise."

She sighs wryly. "Well, it never hurts to ask."

He chuckles again, presses a kiss to her lips and then shifts just enough to settle down with his head on the pillow. Susan nestles up closer, her legs still around his and one hand still wrapped behind his neck, thumb stroking idly at the ends of his hair. He thinks as he closes his eyes that he's probably going to wake up still tangled up in her - which is not, in his book or any other, a bad thing at all.

  


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